


Captive Souls

by neela



Category: Murder Call (TV)
Genre: Aftermath, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Episode Related, F/M, Fear of Death, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Investigations, Kidnapping, Lone Wolf, Resolution, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21755956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neela/pseuds/neela
Summary: "Sadly, captive souls lie still somewhere awaiting to smile again." (Stephanie Lynn, 2015)Instead of escaping that cellar with Melissa Haywood at the end of "Fatal Charm" (Ep. 2x04), Tessa is taken captive by Kevin Mottram.
Relationships: Tessa Vance/Steve Hayden
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NothingHappensByChance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingHappensByChance/gifts).



> A gift for a fellow MC fan. :) Maybe it's about time we come up with a nickname for that group?

* * *

**Sydney**

_Day 29_

By the time he reached the address she'd given him, she was gone. All that was left were signs of a struggle. Faded blood marks. Melissa Haywood's joggers. A broken chloroform bottle. Drag marks in the dust. DNA belonging to both their Jane Doe and Melissa Haywood. Not Tessa's. She'd left no mark, but Steve knew she'd been there. Why else would their merchant so suddenly have moved shop? Witnesses had seen his van leave in a hurry just minutes before Steve had arrived. Traffic cams had tracked him out of the city and lost him on the smaller roads.

That was a month ago. They had no proof that Melissa Haywood and Tessa were alive. They couldn't prove they were dead either. It was the worst possible situation of all: the not knowing. Steve had seen multiple bereaved in that situation. Had tried his best to comfort them, to tell them that they'd do everything they could to find their loved ones, but he'd never imagined he'd find himself in that position.

It made him listless. It made him angry, driven, aggressive. And the more the clock ticked away to the inevitable day when Thorne would have to reallocate resources to other cases, the more desperate Steve became. For the first time in years, he prayed. To Saint Anthony, the patron saint of the lost. To Saint Michael, the Archangel and the patron saint of police officers. To Saint Jude, the patron saint of desperate situations. To God, the Almighty Father, who for so many years had rarely answered his prayers.

But for each day that passed, even his prayers lost their strength. And when he was finally forced to listen to Thorne say those damned words, he felt nothing. He was numb.

"I'm sorry," Thorne told the task force that for the past month had been based in Central Homicide. "This has been a difficult decision to make, especially given that one of our own is involved, but the unfortunate truth is that we're out of options. We've had no new leads in two weeks. Until we get some, there are other cases that need our attention."

No one said a word, whether in outrage or assent. Steve stared at the empty chair opposite of his. Tessa would've been the first to protest in a situation like this. She'd have fought tooth and nail to push through until the case had reached a resolution. Maybe that's why no one could say anything. Her ghost had already said what needed to be said.

"Right. New assignments will be given to you by the end of the day. Thank you for your good work so far." For a split second, Thorne paused, then continued in a low voice, "As you were."

Thorne left as stoically as he'd arrived. No fanfare. No booming voice. Just older and wearier. Steve watched the Inspector retreat into his office and shut the door behind him. A moment later, the blinds were closed.

Steve returned his stare to the empty desk, to the folders and notepads that'd been left untouched, and the overall clutter he'd teasingly said was proof of her overactive mind. With every muscle protesting, he got up, picked up the empty cardboard box that'd stood untouched next to the desk for a month, and began to fill it.

"What're you doing?" Dee's accusatory voice knifed through him at once. She appeared at his elbow, palms spread protectively over any surface she could reach. "Nu-uh, mate. Not happening. She's coming back. And she's gonna go mental that you touched her stuff."

Steve didn't sigh. Didn't stop. Didn't look at her. He just picked up one item after the other, ignoring each associated memory.

"Hey? You hear me? It's not bloody time, mate!" With more force, Dee grabbed him around the wrist, which only served to slow down his movements rather than bring them to a stand-still.

Steve was saved from responding by Tootsie's familiar voice. "Dee."

"Tell him to stop, Toots." Dee looked behind him, her voice close to breaking.

Tootsie only sighed. It sounded abnormally loud in the normally bustling office, making Steve aware of how quiet his surroundings were. You could hear a pin drop. It made him more determined not to look up; he was sure all eyes were on him and Dee.

"No," Dee said thickly, her fingers going slack around his wrist. With a subtle motion, he shrugged them off him and continued his duty. As Tessa's partner, it fell to him to do this; to remove the traces — the essence — of her. To clear the space for someone new. But it was hard to listen to Dee's denial and her consequent burst of rage. "This is _wrong_. She's not _dead_. But you're all treating her like she is!"

"Dee…" Tootsie again, gentle voice, clearly meant to be reassuring, but ultimately failing. Before the pathologist could continue, Dee had rammed her shoulder into Steve's arm and stormed out the double doors.

In the silence that followed the doors closing, Steve stood stock-still, arm aching painfully. Part of him wanted to massage it, but that'd mean showing a response of some sort. An acknowledgment of what'd happened, and he couldn't do that. The numbness wouldn't allow him.

So he did the only thing he could: he continued packing Tessa's things into the cardboard box until there wasn't a single trace left — just like at the crime scene. He then put the lid on, picked up his suit jacket, and left with the box in his hands.

No one stopped him. No one probably dared to.

* * *

**Unknown location**

_Unknown date_

The cold has seeped into her bones again, and yet Tessa felt clammy, feverish. She groped in the darkness for the dirty woollen blanket she'd been given, and wrapped it around herself even as the stench made her gag.

Every movement was painful. Every breath was laboured. Just further confirmation that she'd at least broken some ribs the day she'd been taken.

The memory of that day was beginning to get hazy. She knew she'd fought, and she knew she'd lost, but she remembered only glimpses. The guard dog she'd pacified. The hard push that'd thrown her through an open door and down some stairs. The panicked eyes of Melissa Haywood. The stench of the chloroform. The dizziness before the scuffle. The thick fingers around her throat. The darkness that followed.

She honestly didn't know why she was still alive. Why she was still fed, still tended to, despite being locked up in what appeared to be an abandoned root cellar. Whenever she'd tried to get an answer, the man had just smirked. Whenever she'd tried to get under his skin, he'd just left.

She also didn't know what'd happened to Melissa, although she'd sometimes thought she'd heard a faint female voice from outside. She both hoped and didn't that the teenager was still alive. Alive, there was a chance to get away. But dead could be its own escape too, depending on what being alive entailed.

_You're not allowed to die, though. Let it hurt as hell, but don't you dare give up. The others won't._

Tessa coughed, which made it feel as if her chest was breaking into pieces with each spasm. Even so, the pain was useful. It was her only measurement of time in this perpetual darkness, along with what she presumed to be daily deliveries of food and water. So long as the pain was there, it hadn't been six weeks yet. There was still time to find her. Still time to try to get out herself.

She just had to stay alive. Whatever it took.

* * *

**Sydney**

_Day 36_

The knocking persisted. So had the phone calls and the text messages. Steve ignored them all. Drank his beer. Stared at the cardboard box currently sitting on top of his coffee table.

It'd been placed in a closet the first night. A few hours later, he'd taken it out, put it on the kitchen table. Day after, a chair. Then the floor, the couch, the small table next to his front door, and now straight in his line of sight on the coffee table.

He didn't know why he did it. Didn't know why he couldn't just put it out of sight, out of mind. Why he couldn't just go back to work like usual. At times, he wanted to throw it into the fireplace or pound it with a sledgehammer. Maybe have a bonfire in his backyard. It were the only times the numbness showed signs of breaking. When his rage became too volatile, too uncontrollable.

How could she have been so stupid? Why, after all her experiences, hadn't she learned not to dive in headfirst without back-up? Without her partner? Without _him_?

And how the hell could _he_ have been so stupid? He should've gone to her as soon as she'd called. He'd heard the tone in her voice. Had recognised it. Had known she was about to do something reckless. It wouldn't have cost much for him to go. Either Tootsie, Fisk or Thorne could've phoned him with the dental results.

But he'd been so driven by his urge to tick off the boxes. To do things properly. To not follow hunches blindly before he had the information he needed. She'd been her and he'd been him, and here he sat with a cardboard box of meaningless stuff.

Whoever had been knocking on his door tried the handle. It rattled. Locked. From outside, it'd look like no one was home. The curtains were drawn. The lights were off except for a small lamp in the kitchen.

"Hayden." Fisk's voice was muffled by the door. Steve was momentarily stunned to hear it. He'd expected it to be Tootsie. Maybe Dee. They'd be liable to do something like this. "They've found a body."

A body.

A body?

It couldn't be hers. Couldn't. Because if it was…

His breath stopped.

* * *

**Unknown location**

_Unknown date_

Her cough was raspy. Sore. Wet. Not a good sign. Nor the shivers. Could be pneumonia. Could be something else. In either case, it meant she wasn't getting better. She'd tried to tell her captor that in the brief moments she was aware he came by with the day's rations, but most of the time she couldn't be sure she was talking to someone real or a ghost.

She'd thought she'd seen Steve too. She'd felt his hand brush across her hot, clammy forehead. Had heard him whisper something in her ear. Something secret and forbidden. Something she'd forgotten. Had smiled at him. Felt lighter. Stronger. But then she'd been alone again. Broken and alone. Captive.

She could no longer stop the tears. The sobs. The pain. They mixed with the shivers, the sweat, the fever. Weakened her. Drained her. Robbed her of sleep, of appetite, of thirst. Turning her slowly into something that just _was._

An existence about to be snuffed out like a breath of air around a lit candle.

An existence trapped in between light and dark.

A life. A breath. A heartbeat.

* * *

**Sydney**

_Day 36_

Each step was heavier than the last. Rain beat against his face. Cheeks cold and sore. Feet sinking into mud. Gaze fixed upon the scene-of-crime tape and work lights positioned among the trees ahead; upon the blue tent shielding the crime scene from the elements.

His mind was blank. Had been blank during the entire drive. Continued to be blank as he crossed the tape and approached the tent.

But stopped being blank when Tootsie exited the tent ahead of a black body bag carried between two assistants.

Again, his breath stopped. His heart stopped. His feet stopped. Each terrible thought raged to the surface. Each horrible scenario. Each devastating possibility.

Tootsie's gaze began to turn to him.

In a split second, his legs weakened. Threatened to collapse under him. Hanging on by the thread that was the disconnect between Tootsie's gaze and his. Hoping, _hoping to all saints and the Almighty Father,_ that it wouldn't be true. That it wouldn't be her. But part of him already tumbled over the precipice. Was plunging into the abyss. Into the darkness.

Tootsie's gaze met his, both relaxed and not. Before he knew it, she was next to him, her hand on his arm, her voice low. "It's not her."

Not her? Steve stared transfixed at the body bag as it passed. It was lithe, like she'd been. Could be a woman. Could be a blonde.

Could be anyone.

"Are you sure?" He sounded more grounded than he felt. Was still jelly-legged. Still light-headed. No oxygen left in his lungs.

Tootsie's fingers tightened around his arm as if to hold him back — or hold him steady, he didn't know which. "It's not her, Steve. It's neither of them."

It should've pleased him, but it didn't. Instead, his heart felt as if it'd been ripped from his chest. His breath shuddered. His eyes burned.

He had to turn away; listening to the body bag disappearing into the darkness of the forest.

* * *

**Unknown location**

_Unknown date_

A warm hand on her brow. She wasn't imagining it. She was warm too. Wrapped snugly. Smelled clean too.

Tessa opened her eyes. They felt heavy as she blinked against the sharp light. A blurred figure moved in the midst of it, shielding the worst. The owner of the hand. A warm hand. A soft hand. A gentle hand.

"Melissa." Her voice croaked. Sore. Hurt. But not as terrible as it'd been. More like disuse.

The young girl's face came into her line of sight. Still round cheeks, round eyes, beautiful lines — but drawn. Relieved but terrified. Unhurt but thin.

"You're alive," Tessa said. That one thought stuck in her head. Forced her eyes open even as they threatened to slide shut.

Melissa smiled. Honest. Young. Relieved. "So are you, detective."

"Tessa." She swallowed, smacking her dry lips, coughing and aching. Her hand was trapped and she struggled to get it out from the covers that formed her cocoon. Melissa caught it as soon as it was. Squeezed it tightly. It felt both wrong and not. It should've been the other way around. _She_ should've been the one to comfort, but her hand was limp and without strength.

"You'll be okay, Tessa." Melissa whispered, staring with fright across her shoulder. "I'll protect you."

 _No_ , Tessa wanted to say, but she was already slipping back into the warm darkness. Dreaming once more.

* * *

**Sydney**

_Day 42_

Steve stepped back from the wall, hands on his hips. Staring at the spiderweb of yarn, papers, and pictures stretching from one end of the wall to the other. Feeling finally as if he was on track again, as if he had a purpose again.

Last week had been a wake-up call. He couldn't sit on his hands anymore staring at a cardboard box and an empty desk and think it'd just resolve itself on its own. Homicide might not have the resources anymore, but he still had hours left of the day after his shifts. He still had nights where sleep didn't come easily and his time could be better spent in here, in the room that was supposed to be his home study once his renovations were done, but had been forced into action early.

Each lead had been studied again. Had been taken out of narrow-minded boxes and investigated anew. No stone left unturned. No rumour too farfetched. No crazy tip on the police hotline too silly.

The result was the new thread on the wall. A link between Kylie the homeless girl and an old run-down car seen hanging around at odd hours two blocks from the place she'd called home. A car that'd disappeared into thin air…seemingly. He'd check the surveillance tapes and traffic cams tomorrow. Maybe work out a registration number. Maybe connect it to their merchant. Maybe find out where he'd taken them.

Steve picked up a beer from a nearby stack of boxes that served as his only table in the room. Next to it was a small notebook. Tessa's. Full of doodles and half-written thoughts; question marks and exclamation points. Now, some of his own too. Not as messy, not as random, but nevertheless _there._ Trying her approach.

It brought a rare smile to his face.

* * *

**Unknown location**

_Unknown date_

She was improving day by day. As she did, she realised exactly how far Melissa was going in order to protect her.

A bruise on her wrist. A bruise on her upper arm. Something worse on her face: not a bruise, but a hardness; a disconnect that was hard to hide. A hardness born from bearing what shouldn't be borne.

Melissa always smiled, though. The girl was being a damn hero and Tessa could do nothing. Whenever she'd tried, she'd overexerted herself, collapsing in a sweaty heap of painful coughs and wheezes.

Until now.

"Help me up." She already had her legs over the edge of the bed, her lungs straining. No matter how weak and dizzy she felt, she was going to get up. Nothing was going to stop her. No one. Not today.

Melissa was hesitant, resistant, but when Tessa began to push off the bed on her own, legs almost collapsing under her, she surged forward. Held her up. Clung on as Tessa found her feet again. As she straightened as best as she could.

It pained her how weak she was. How fragile. Especially since it was _her_ job to be the opposite. Not Melissa's. That was going to change.

But first she needed strength. And help.

"There and back." Gritting her teeth, Tessa gestured to the opposite wall and began to walk. 'Stumble' might fit better. Like walking in the midst of a small earthquake. Like someone at the end of their life defying gravity and old, disused bones.

Sweat broke out on her skin, but she didn't care.

Muscles shook and groaned, but she didn't care.

Head swam and felt faint, but she didn't care.

She was going there and back. So she did.

* * *

**Sydney**

_Day 48_

It took almost a week to find and had passed in the blink of an eye. Scouring the CCTV copies at three in the morning, Steve had just been debating whether to hit the sack. As such, he'd almost missed it.

But there it was: the old run-down car that'd hung around Kylie's haunts. Same registration number, same make and model, and now it sat just across the street from a bar they'd tagged as one of their merchant's usual waterholes. The van had been spotted outside it multiple times. Bartenders and regulars had confirmed he'd gone there often.

Steve'd had a hunch and now he had a clue. Not a mere figment of imagination. It was black and white. Irrefutable. And where there was one, there could be another; brick on brick until one day he had a house big enough to send that merchant straight into the seven circles of prison hell.

Energy renewed, Steve rewinded the VHS tape, and saw who'd exited the car. Saw his merchant's ugly mug, his ungainly walk, his vicious gaze. Followed him into the bar. Fast-forwarded until he exited and got back into the car. He took note of where the car headed off, and became determined to find the necessary tapes to track the merchant's route.

A smile lit up his face and Steve cast a glance at the picture he'd framed and propped up on the coffee table. "Found him, Tess."

Her snapshot smile seemed to widen. Brighten. Come alive.

Just like he'd hoped.

* * *

**Unknown location**

_Unknown date_

She walked there and back multiple times a day now. Grew stronger, more determined. The cough had lessened too. The ribs didn't ache as much. The few times she'd managed to see her reflection in something shiny, she'd even looked better.

Like her old self.

Still worn, tired, but alive. No longer just someone who _was_. Becoming someone who _could_.

Melissa didn't like it. "He'll come for you."

_Rather me than you._

"I'll be fine." Tessa brushed her hair, took care to make it nicer than it'd been, and pinched her cheeks slightly, bringing blood into them. Then ran a discrete hand over the concealed toothbrush she'd fashioned into a prison-style shiv without Melissa or their captor knowing. "I'm trained for this."

_I only need a moment._

She gave Melissa a smile. "It'll be all right."

Heavy footfalls sounded in the hallway outside their bedroom door. Creaking floorboards signalling old age and years of disuse. Rattling from a tray containing their daily ration of food and drink. Keys and locks clicking together, snapping open. Then the squeak of the doorknob turning.

Melissa shot to her feet. Tessa rose more slowly. Straightened her back. Squared her shoulders. An image of strength beneath a facade of docility. The hunted submitting to her hunter. Appealing to his sense of pride in having fenced her in for his own enjoyment…and yet challenging him to subdue her even more. To break her in. Make her do his bidding. Answer his beck and call. Whatever the full extent of his fantasy entailed.

His gaze fell first on Melissa, though. Lecherous. Glinting satisfactorily. Pleased. Handing her the tray, which she took without meeting his gaze, without raising her head, without a fight, and put it on the nearest bed.

Then his gaze shifted to her. Widened slightly. Smile souring somewhat. Eyebrows raising minutely. A cloud crossing his face like the coming of the storm.

With slow steps, he approached her. Tall, broad, disgusting. Teeth slightly bared amidst tense lips.

Tessa's heart beat wildly. Mind suddenly conjuring images of Brady Mumm. Of the guy in the shed. Of the guy on the ghost train. Of the scuffle in the basement that'd landed her here. Her limbs trembled. Her fingers clenched. Every nerve itched for the concealed shiv, but she knew she only had one shot. She couldn't blow it. Their lives depended on it.

A fat hand landed on her cheek. Tipped her chin up. Forced her gaze right onto his. Thumb pressed into the vulnerable part underneath her chin. Nail digging into her skin. Forced the air almost out of her lungs. Made her heart race even harder.

A vicious grin curled upon his lips.

_Steady. Don't give up._

Tessa didn't blink. Didn't look away. Didn't grimace in disgust as his hand dug into her hair and caressed it like it'd do a lover's.

But rather than take her with him, he just turned away. Walked out. Locked the door with a final gaze through the crack — a final grin.

Tessa gasped as if she'd run a mile.

* * *

**Sydney**

_Day 52_

He'd walked the footsteps of his merchant. Tracked the movements of the car. Gone to every place it'd parked where CCTV had caught it. Found a few more local surveillance shots just days shy of being erased.

In every one, their merchant or the car had been just on the edges of the screen. Barely recognisable except to the trained eye. _His_ eye. He'd have it backed up by experts, of course, but there wasn't time right now. He was on the trail. The hunt. If he stopped now…

Steve's fists clenched. Jaw set, he strode down the back alley before him. Graffiti everywhere. Garbage and spent needles. Homeless and druggies. Disease, deprivation and desperation. The underbelly of the city and the unseen — but not the blind.

He was in his civvies and doing his best impression of not being a cop, but the stink remained. These people knew it well; had learned the hard way why it might be better to avoid, keep quiet, run. As he walked, they shied away from him. Averted their eyes. Shrunk in on themselves.

But he knew who he was looking for. Not just a description either, but a full body shot from a surveillance tape from a shop down the block. Someone who'd interacted with his merchant. Who'd exchanged what'd looked like money. Who'd seemed awfully familiar with his target. Who, according to the shop owner, was there every week to meet with him.

Only the darkness and poor lighting was his enemy right now. Even so, the hooded figure was recognisable. Rummaging through a garbage container. Adding stuff to his overladen shopping cart. Humming to himself.

Steve kept his eyes on the ground, hands in his pockets, trying to appear disinterested. Just a bloke heading through on his way home on this cool autumn night. Not a bloke on the prowl.

It didn't work. One look was all it took and Steve was running, yelling out the man's name, telling him to stop.

Muscles screamed at the sudden motion, then adjusted, energised him, drove him on. Enabled him to skip obstacles. Jump fences. Crawl through tight spaces. Whatever it took until he grabbed onto a grimy piece of clothing and held on.

In a burst of energy, he threw himself forward. Tackled the man and brought him to the ground. Got control of him.

"Haven't you learned it's never a good idea to run, Sal?" It came out in a winded breath amidst a slight grin; adrenaline high in his veins. "Makes you look suspicious."

"I don't know anything," Sal gritted out, cheek pressed against the asphalt. "Ain't seen nothing either."

"You haven't heard my question yet." Digging into his pocket, Steve pulled out one of the money bills he'd prepared for this circumstance. He then held it so Sal could see its value. "Kevin Mottram. What do you know?"

Sal stilled at once.

* * *

**Unknown location**

_Unknown date_

She'd forgotten how good it felt to have the sun on her face. Even if it was just through a crack in the boarded-up window. Even if it was just for a few seconds. It was the closest to human she'd felt in a long while.

It didn't last, though. With a sharp tug on her wrist, she was called back into the darkness. Back into a dank, half-filthy room that even a decent scrub would have a hard time cleaning up. Lit only by candles and an old television set playing VHS tapes of 1950s and 60s B-movies. All windows boarded up and covered by heavy drapes.

Shutting out the world.

Shutting them in.

The tugs on the leash around her wrist made her stumble until she found her feet, then she was at his side. Quiet. Outwardly demure. Inwardly fuming. Biding her time. Lulling him into a false sense of security.

She hoped.

She was both conscious and not that her feet were bare, that her skin was hot, that all she wore apart from her underwear was an old linen slip far past its expiration date. And the shiv, of course. Disguised among the wires of her bra.

In times like this, he wasn't usually much of a talker. Just sat planted in an armchair, eyes fixed upon the screen — or upon either of the two he had leashed to a metal peg in the middle of the room.

No matter how much it made her skin crawl, Tessa had come to prefer this. Playing the slave, the submissive woman at his beck and call, was better than the alternative. It gave them a certain amount of freedom. Especially considering how the key was always kept out of their leashes' reach, which made escape difficult even if they'd managed to take him down.

The scary part came later. Elsewhere. When leering wasn't enough. When commandeering wasn't enough. When whatever held his urges at bay lost its strength.

Tessa hadn't experienced it yet. Didn't _want_ to experience it either, but from what Melissa had — reluctantly — divulged, it was the best chance they had of catching him off guard. There'd be no leash and no key out of reach.

She just had to bide her time.

"You shouldn't do that."

She recognised the tone. Steeled herself. Felt her heart pounding in her chest.

He looked up at her from underneath hooded eyes and low brows. Dangerous. "Someone might see you."

He tugged her leash hard, made her stumble down to her knees in front of him, gasping. He then reached out to grasp her chin, lips curling at one corner.

Tessa's mind blanked. Survival mode.

"Wouldn't want that," he said silkily, nails digging into her skin. Hard. Dangerous.

Tessa's insides turned.

* * *

**Sydney**

_Day 55_

Real detective work wasn't like on television. Steve had always known that — and always advocated that too.

In real life, they spent far more man-hours on less-than-newsworthy stuff such as pouring over old records at local town halls, tracking down names and numbers amongst a plethora of them — and without any handy computer search engines to help them out — and seeking out people with barely the remotest connection to their suspects (or victims).

Also, they never had the time or resources to spend on just a single case at a time. They were on call every six weeks, and whatever showed up during that time — and no matter how many — it was on them.

So even with Sal's lead, even with that tiniest, saddest and most pathetic morsel of facts, he was still looking at hours of work and dead ends ahead of him. Hours that'd spread into days because there just weren't enough of them in a day when most of it had to be spent on what he was actually paid for. Dead ends because even in this day and age, records were still found wanting, and because a witness was more often than not unreliable until proven otherwise. Especially one such as Sal.

There was also that most damning fact of all: Steve didn't have the resources or backing to request warrants. This was just a side project — a private thing — which meant in order to get what he needed, he had to beg, curse and steal...and call in every favour he could think of.

But he'd gladly pay the price. _She_ was worth it. Every frustrating, despairing, hopeless moment. Because no matter how bad he might have it—

Steve's jaw clenched.

_Tess, I'm coming._

* * *

**Unknown location**

_Unknown date_

No matter how much she scrubbed, it wouldn't come off. The stench filled her nostrils. Stale sweat and something else. Something her mind couldn't process. Something it never should've had to process.

Desperately, she tried to run the facts through her head. Tried to find an anchor point. Focus on the case, like she'd always managed to do. But it wouldn't come to her. It was all a mess. Everything she'd gathered. Every detail she'd pieced together. Just a big fat mess, corrupted by the stench. The stench that wouldn't come off. The stench that—

Really, she should've expected the tears. The strangled sob. The pain from scrubbing her skin too hard with cold water. Her entire body shook — uncontrollably — and it was like she couldn't breathe.

"Tessa?" Meek voice. Gentle knock on the door.

Melissa.

Gasping, Tessa froze. Stilled everything. Blinked furiously until her vision cleared. Became aware of the bathroom she was in — the privilege he'd granted her now — and light that didn't exist elsewhere. The only sanctuary in this hellhole — the only other room with an express purpose.

He liked his women clean, their skin soft.

Tessa squeezed her eyes shut, forced control over her voice, and answered Melissa finally, "I'm all right. I'll be out soon."

At least she sounded in control.

"Okay." Melissa's voice was still quiet, meek, and yet…

_She knows._

_She shouldn't know._

Tessa's tears threatened again, but only for a moment. Something in her hardened familiarly. Something that'd been missing these past few hours — or could it be days? Something she'd need if she was going to get through this.

_No more._

_Protect her._

* * *

**Sydney**

_Day 73_

He was close. There wasn't any solid proof yet, but he could feel it. Could feel the noose tightening around his merchant. Could feel the satisfaction in being the one doing it. Could feel the adrenaline driving him on, narrowing his focus, pushing him past any previous limitations.

"You got it?" Like time, his words were economical now. Steve stormed into the Regional Homicide offices and straight for Detective Senior Constable Winston's desk.

"They just faxed it over." Winston didn't give him his usual exasperated look. Instead, his brows furrowed as he held up a nondescript folder. "You gonna fill me in, Steve? Bit out of your area of operations."

Steve ignored the question, just went straight for the folder. Popped it open to survey the twenty-page long list of both handwritten and typed records of property owners. Some of the scrawls were hardly legible, so he'd start with the typed ones. Go backwards through history, like he'd been taught. Compare it with the records he'd already compiled from their databases.

"Thanks, Jack. I'll let you know if there's something else."

With a turn on his heel, eyes never taken off the list, Steve left. He heard a puff of exasperation behind him, but he didn't care.

The answer was in there. He knew it. Couldn't explain it. Nor did he feel the need to. Not anymore. Not when he was _so close_.

_Hold on, Tessa._

* * *

**Unknown location**

_Unknown date_

Everything had a purpose now. Every look. Every word. Every stance. For each thing that went wrong, she redoubled her efforts. Took risks. Even bordered on desperate at times.

_No more._

It was a mantra to her now, and it felt like a timer had switched on, counting down to zero hour. Whose, she didn't know. She was doing all she could to make sure it wouldn't be _theirs,_ but _his._

The consequent sweat was causing the shiv to dig more and more into the skin between her breasts. If he made her undress once more, she wouldn't be able to hide the marks. It'd be her only shot.

 _No more_.

She was only going to need that one shot.

* * *

**Sydney**

_Day 73, continued_

Steve froze.

It was there. The name. Not their merchant's, but a distant relative. Someone who'd died years ago with no family, whose records pre-dated digitalisation.

Someone who owned a property far out in the outback. A cross-reference with several maps put it at least twenty miles from the closest neighbour. An old farm. Secluded spot. Self-sufficient.

Perfect hideaway for a killer who liked to spend time with his victims.

Abruptly, Steve jumped to his feet. Pulled every piece of paper with him. Almost deranged where he stormed over to Thorne's office, interrupting the Inspector mid-phone call.

Thorne was furious. Expression contorting into red-faced rage. "Hay—"

Without a care, he dropped it all on Thorne's desk, pulling the papers into some semblance of order, desperate to show, to _prove—_

"Mottram," he spat out, jabbing his finger down onto the property outlined on one of the maps, feeling crazy and dizzy and hyped-up on adrenaline. He didn't even realise he'd indirectly referred to Tessa as a victim earlier. Too far gone for that. "He's here."

Thorne's eyes widened…and then narrowed. Slowly, he turned to the phone. "Excuse me, sir, I'll have to call you back."

Call ended, Thorne stapled his fingertips together, pressed them up to his lips, and surveyed the papers splayed out before him.

Steve felt impatience press in on him, and half-began to shuffle the papers differently so Thorne would see what he saw. What seemed so _clear_ to him, who'd been wrapped up in this for weeks, who'd chased down every lead and discovered new ones, who'd done it all on his own time in addition to his usual case load, who'd forgone sleep—

Thorne looked up at him. Saw straight through him. Then, slowly, he lowered his hands to the desk. "Take it from the top."

* * *

**Unknown location**

_Unknown date_

Her chance came too soon.

The plate crashed onto the floor. Food spilled everywhere. Broken pieces of porcelain too. Sputtering and tearing-up, Melissa jumped down on all fours to clean it up, muttering desperate apologies as she did so. Even cutting herself on the broken edges without noticing.

For a split second, Tessa thought of Haven. Of the three sisters who'd lived in a regime of terror. Who'd finally decided to become the aggressors instead.

_No more._

The next second, she was halfway between Melissa and him. Arms stretched out. Eyes blown wide. Heart hammering in her chest.

He stared at her from the edge of his seat, Melissa's leash clenched tightly in his fist. "Out of the way."

Dangerous tone again. Fist turning white-knuckled. The look in his eye confirming the change of atmosphere: that his control was on the verge of slipping. That this event was one of those things that could make him deviate from his usual MO and snap. Triggering something he couldn't control.

_No more._

She knew that if she resisted physically here, she'd get a punch instead of something else. But she needed the latter. She needed her shot. It'd be the only way they could break free.

So, shakily, Tessa reached up to one strap of her slip and slid it down her shoulder, and then brushed her hair aside. Exposing skin, and the vulnerable part of her neck. Not enough to be vulgar — he didn't like that, not in here — but enough to distract. To entice.

…she hoped.

She didn't dare look at him. Not at first. Not until she noticed that Melissa's leash went slack on the floor. Then, as hers tensed and jerked her forward, she looked up at him through hooded eyes. Heart still hammering. Blood still pounding. Shiv still digging into the skin between her breasts.

Her leash was in his clenched fist. His eyes were dark and foreboding.

Slowly, he pulled her closer.

* * *

**Motorway**

**Outside Sydney**

_Day 73, continued_

He'd wanted to storm up there immediately. Thorne had stopped him. Tried to bring him back to Earth: a ridiculous concept right now. Had insisted they send local forces to check the place out. Too expensive otherwise. Time-consuming too.

Logically, Steve knew it was a sound choice, but this wasn't about logic anymore. He needed to be up there. He needed to _see_.

…which was why he was speeding down the motorway, constantly looking at the time displayed on the dashboard. Feeling as if a clock was still counting down, and too fast.

An hour and a half since Thorne's call to local forces and they'd heard nothing.

Then again, it'd be two hours one way from the station to the property in question. A helicopter would do it faster, but without more concrete evidence, they had to do a recon first. Establish the facts. If Mottram turned out to be there… They could go all in. Whatever was necessary.

But if he _was_ there, it also meant—

_Tessa._

Her face swam before his line of sight. Blurrier now than it'd used to be. Shifting between a smile and something else: an expression he never wanted to see again. That'd spawned out of his memories now that his mind was no longer chasing clues and had time to wander.

Beautiful blue eyes…and sheer terror.

_Stop._

Steve's jaw clenched. He'd managed to shut down this stuff over the past month. He needed to shut it down again. Needed to keep his head on straight.

After all, the clock was on.

* * *

**Unknown location**

_Unknown date_

She could smell his stench now. His bad breath. Just an inch from her face.

Her body began to tremble. Her skin began to curl.

"Don't." His voice was low. Beyond dangerous. "Do." Murderous. "That."

He tugged on her leash hard. She yelped in pain. Felt his grip come out to dig into her shoulder. Press her down. Force her head to the floor. Expose her neck to the air.

"You hear me?" It was almost a scream. He brought his heavy foot down on her neck, holding her down as he jerked on the leash, twisting her arm up and backwards.

Tessa cried out, tears popping into her eyes involuntarily. In futility, she grasped at his foot with her spare hand, all thoughts of control out of her head now. Reacting on instinct. Struggling to breathe as his foot pressed down harder, pushing her windpipe into the hardwood floor.

"Please stop it!" Melissa was crying out. Hysterical now.

"Shut up!" He roared, tugging harder on Tessa's leash.

Tessa could feel it all spinning out of control. Fumbled for the foot, trying to push it off, then scrambling for the shiv, pressing hard into her skin. The edges of her vision was darkening. Her chest was shaking, her throat gargling, stars appearing everywhere.

For a moment, she was back in her apartment. Back in the ghost train. Back in the shed. Mumm's slick voice. Cramer's strong hands. Gunther's nightmarish mask.

Panicked. Struggling. Losing.

Then her hand grasped on something, tightened around it, and she flailed. Used her last bit of strength. Her last bit of control. Drove the shiv into soft flesh. Heard him roar in pain. Felt the pressure release. Clung on to the shiv, even as it jerked her other arm nearly out of its socket. Still clutched it as it loosened and fell back down to the ground.

For one glorious moment, she was free.

Just one.

* * *

**Motorway**

**Outside Sydney**

_Day 73, continued_

Not seconds after he'd checked the dashboard clock to confirm it'd been nearly two and a half hours since Thorne's initial call, his phone set off.

He didn't take it. Everything about him blanked out instead. Like he couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't move.

His heart was hammering in his chest like it'd done ever since he'd found that name on the list; the last clue. Cold sweat broke out on his skin, coating the back of his neck, making his hands slippery on the steering wheel.

_Gotta answer._

It was the logical thing…but there was no logic left, was there? Why else was he speeding down this road — way past the speed limit — in a rush to get somewhere he'd have no chance of reaching before anyone else?

_Gotta answer._

The call fizzed out right before he could pick it up. He'd seen Thorne's number, though. Knew it could only mean one thing.

Gritting his teeth, fisting his hands, Steve pressed the dial-back button. Forced himself to breathe. Forced himself to hold the phone up to his ear. To listen to the call out signal. To expect an answer.

 _"Hayden."_ Thorne sounded curt. Indecipherable.

Steve's breath stuck in his throat. The road ahead lost focus. The early evening darkness pressed in on him.

He didn't want to hear the rest, but he had to. Was compelled to.

And it knocked the air out of him.

" _They found a body."_

* * *

**Unknown location**

_Unknown date_

Yells and screams and breaks and scuffles. It filled her ears as she came to, her face and body throbbing. She blinked her eyes in confusion — one wouldn't quite open — and glanced to where the chaos seemed worst.

_Melissa._

Reality came clear as rain on a wave of adrenaline. Rolling to her knees, Tessa ignored the accompanying pain, the shiv still clutched tightly in her hand. All she could see through the haze was Melissa struggling to keep him back, clawing at his face and eyes.

_No more._

It spurred her on. Brought her up on her feet. Made her storm forwards with a yell, shiv raised, until she could sink it into his back…again…again…again…no matter how many times he roared and flailed, trying to beat her back down again.

_No more. No more!_

He was strong, though. So much stronger. Like a wounded animal, snarling back at her. Abandoning Melissa, he came after her again. Stumbling. Heavy. Kicked her. Beat her. Sent her careening into a table that broke. Pulled her back up again by the linen slip, punched her in the face.

…all the while, ignoring the jabs she made at him with her little shiv.

Then, suddenly, he stopped fully. Stood frozen. Lost his grip on her. Stumbled backwards, one hand reaching to the side of his neck. Pulled something out in surprise. A piece of broken porcelain.

Wetness sprayed everywhere. Into her face. Onto her skin. Tessa hardly noticed, however. She was gasping for breath, fingers clenched and sore, body shaking and in pain.

When her vision cleared, she saw him on the ground next to her. Still. Melissa standing over him. Bloodied and shaking. Eyes wide. Mouth open.

_No more._

It cleared her head again. Coughing and broken, Tessa rolled onto all fours. Rose shakily to her feet. She was barely able to stand, but needed the motion. Couldn't stay still.

"Melissa." Hard of breath, she stumbled to the girl's side, grabbed her shoulders, and tried to force her away. "Melissa!"

The girl — no, the woman, aged beyond her years — turned her gaze to hers…and crumbled. Sobbing, she clutched at Tessa, who struggled to keep them both up and was forced to sink down onto the floor.

She didn't know how long they sat there. Her mind had spaced out some time ago, leaving her to run on instinct. It meant trying to comfort Melissa. Tell her she'd done the right thing. That it was going to be all right now. That she was safe now. He couldn't hurt her anymore.

Eventually, however, she knew they had to move. Had to get out of there. Get help.

_Steve._

His face came unbidden to her. She forced it away. She didn't want him to see her like this. Not again. Not—

Her throat clenched. Tears squeezed into her eyes. Swallowing hard, Tessa blinked them away and patted Melissa's shoulder. "We need to find a way out of these handcuffs. Get ourselves cleaned up. Find help."

Melissa's sniffles had died down by now. She didn't shake as badly as before when her gaze met Tessa's. Instead, it looked like it'd done so many times before in these long days and nights: too old and too experienced for one so young.

"Okay," she said, wiping away tears — and blood — from her face. She cast a glance at the dead man behind them, then looked away and down at their linked hands. She met Tessa's gaze again. "You can let go of that now, Tessa."

Stunned, Tessa stared down at her clenched hand. The shiv was still in it.

It'd never left. No matter what.

* * *

**Outback property**

**New South Wales**

_Day 73, continued_

He hit the ground running. Pushing past people, police vehicles, and hurriedly assembled search and rescue. Barely remembering to ID himself to the officer outside the scene-of-crime tape.

But no matter how prepared he'd thought he'd been, he wasn't. Not for the living room carnage. Not for the leashes and handcuffs hooked on a metal peg. Not for the bedrooms that showed so clearly that—

Steve cut that thought off. Couldn't allow it space right now. If it hadn't been for the formalities still needing attention, he'd be out there in the bush ahead of the search and rescue, hoping beyond hope that _this_ time, he'd be in time.

"That's Mottram." No mistaking that ugly face on the living room floor, no matter its state. Steve shifted on his feet, though. Antsy. Wanting to squeeze his heel into that face just for measure. "Kevin Mottram. We'll ship up DNA samples for final confirmation."

"Thank you, Detective." The local medical examiner seemed all too happy to pull the sheet back down over the decomposing body. Not that it helped any. The stench was overwhelming; the heat of the house and the climate accelerating the putrefaction process.

Steve didn't even give it a second thought. Just as he'd no longer give Mottram a second thought. He just hoped he'd suffered. That he'd continue suffering in whatever hellfire pit he'd end up in.

_If she's dead too…_

Steve's teeth clenched tightly. The urge to stomp the dead body flared up again.

Every muscle screamed as he turned away.

 _Keep fighting, Tess. Don't give up._ _Back-up's on the way._

* * *

**Unknown location, outback property**

**New South Wales**

_Day 74_

That sound again. Like a fly buzzing against a closed window.

_No…_

Tessa struggled to focus. Not a fly. Flies didn't sound like a machine gun.

_Toco-toco-toco-toco-toco—_

The sound ebbed and flowed like waves crashing on the beach. One moment far off. One moment close by. Rinse. Repeat.

Tessa tried to open her eyes. Only a dark haze met her. No sources of light.

The sound, however, persisted. Eventually, with great effort, it clicked into place.

_Helicopter. Help._

"—'issa?" Voice weak. Body weaker. Something was wrong within her. Had been wrong ever since they'd escaped.

_No more._

The familiar rallying cry came from within. With what felt certain to be the last of her strength, Tessa reached out to touch the younger woman lying nearby.

Melissa woke at once. Tense and alert. Jumpy. Ready for a fight.

"Listen." Barely a whisper. Barely a word.

_Toco-toco-toco-toco-toco—_

A shocked gasp. Melissa understood.

"Go." With a tired nod, Tessa gestured to the door of the shed they'd taken shelter in. "Get help."

And that was all she managed before the haze darkened. Before she slipped away.

* * *

**Roadside, outback property**

**New South Wales**

_Day 74, continued_

Heat signature.

Sign of life.

Steve's heart stopped, then everything became a blur.

Jerking the car to a stop. Reversing. Turning. Speeding down the dirt road.

Eyes wide, alert. Assigned partner keeping track of GPS location. Counting down. Directing.

Screeching to a halt where the road was blocked by other vehicles. Blue lights flashing. Silent amidst the ant colony of people. Reflective vests all around.

Engine still running. Seatbelt snapped loose. Door wrenched open.

Then running, running, running—

Following the trail of people. Seeing reflective vests all around. Passing a canine unit.

Breath hard and ragged. Eyes crazed and desperate.

Then: spotting the S&Rs and paramedics in the distance, navigating the terrain. Stretcher between them. Someone strapped into it. Someone blonde.

And his body threatened to shut down completely. Haltingly, he picked up his pace again, mind blank, gaze focused entirely on the face coming into focus beneath an oxygen mask.

 _Not it,_ he realised. Too young. But older than she'd been. Hair matted. Dirt all over. Visible skin covered in bruises and cuts.

And tears streaming down her cheeks.

Chest pounding and hollow, Steve stared as they carried Melissa past him. Looked quickly back, waiting. Expecting another team. Seeing nothing.

Something burned within. Something cut through him. His legs wanted to buckle. His breath wanted to stop.

Desperate, he called after them. "Was there someone with her?"

The answer killed him.

* * *

**St George Hospital**

**Sydney**

_Day 79_

When she woke, she wasn't in the root cellar. Wasn't in the second bedroom. Wasn't in servitude. Wasn't in captivity.

The only thing keeping her down was the heaviness of her body. Sluggish and pain-free. Hooked to a number of tubes and wires. Machines beeping all around. Dispensing medicine. Monitoring pulse and oxygen. Keeping her alive.

Tessa's eyes blinked. Squinted slightly. Surveyed the hospital room. Took it in with surprising calm and clarity. But also disconnect. After all, it didn't feel real. Could be a dream. Could be heaven. Could be—

Motion in the doorway. Someone preoccupied. Someone too busy getting his breath under control. Someone wiping his cheeks with the palm of his hands. Someone who inhaled deeply, eyes closed, then exhaled and—

Their eyes met. Stunned surprise. Shock. Dark meeting blue. Wet meeting dry.

Then, in the space of a split second, everything came crashing back and down.

A gut-wrenching pain knifed through her. Too large and encompassing to control. Causing tears to burst out of her eyes. Causing a sob to tear through her sore throat. Causing wires and tubes to scratch and jumble all around her body. Trapping her. Hurting her.

Then he was there. Rocking her back and forth. Squeezing her tight. Holding her. Just like he'd done after Mumm. After Cramer. After Gunther. Trying to comfort. Trying to keep her safe.

But now… Clinging to her the same way she clung to him. Digging his fingers into her back like she did his. Sobbing with the same intensity as her. Needing the release. Needing the closeness. Needing the proof that she was, in fact, alive. That she'd survived. That she'd fought.

That she'd won.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part was intended to be an addendum to the original ending, but thematically it felt separate from that first chapter, so I put it into its own section. Now it feels more like an epilogue. I might edit this part later if I feel something's missing.

**St George Hospital**

**Sydney**

_Day 79, continued_

Hurt, yes. Bruised, yes. Wounded, yes. But _here._ Alive. Warm.

Steve could hardly believe it, even after sticking by her side ever since she and Melissa had been found in that shed in the bush. Even after listening to the steady pulse on the heartbeat monitor for the past five days. Even after clutching her hand in his, holding on every chance he got.

There'd been a time he'd been able to keep his distance. Not anymore. Whatever she needed, he'd be there. At the drop of a hat. Without hesitation. He wouldn't even complain about the middle-of-the-night phone calls anymore. About the bursts of inspirations and flights of fancy.

Body and soul, he'd be there. If she wanted him to.

Staring at her sleeping, bruised face, an ache deep within him, he hoped she did.

* * *

**Sydney**

_Day 89_

Nothing had changed in her apartment. Nothing major, at least. Someone had apparently cleaned, tidied it up, put fresh food in her fridge, changed the bedsheets, sorted the mail, and made deals about the monthly bills.

It made her want to cry again. She practically did nothing else these days.

"Thank you," Tessa said softly. She turned to face Steve, who stood just inside the front door as if prepared to leave. As if uncertain on whether he'd overstepped by even crossing the threshold of her apartment. She smiled in spite of her tears and shaky voice. "For everything."

He shrugged, as if he hadn't just gone above and beyond the expected sense of loyalty in a partner. "Least I could do."

She stared at him, noting — not for the first time — the sense of guilt in his tone. The old her would be scared and uncertain; would keep her distance, and let him keep his.

But she'd _changed_.

So she crossed the space between them and found that place in his arms that she'd sought out more and more in the past week. Quite in contrast to how she'd expected to handle the aftermath of her trauma. And yet… Whereas the touch of others — particularly strangers — made her want to recoil, the feel of Steve's arms around her…

Tessa tightened the hug. Felt the tension in him loosen. Felt the strength of the returned hug; the sense of relief. And she burrowed her head in his chest, listening to his heart race. The strong, steady heart, which skipped beats whenever she squeezed him close like this.

"Thank you," she said again. A mumble into his clothes, really, but he'd heard it.

His cheek turned to snuggle against the top of her head, and a sigh escaped his lips. The racing heart calmed. "You're welcome, Tess."

* * *

**Sydney**

_Day 96_

Whimpers. They startled him awake.

In a second, he was on his feet. In the next, he was across the living room and inside the bedroom, watching Tessa toss and turn beneath the covers. Sweat on her skin. Brows furrowed. Lips drawn into thin lines.

Recent experience told him to wait, to call her name softly, and to try to wake her without touching her. Sometimes, it took seconds. Sometimes, it took minutes. Agonising minutes where everything he'd seen, heard, and read replayed at the back of his mind.

The root cellar.

The living room.

The upstairs bedrooms.

It killed him every time. And compared to her, his pain was minimal, which only killed him slower from where he sat on the sideline: waiting, trying, aching.

"Tess…"

With an abrupt jolt, she woke. Eyes wide and unfocused. Breath heavy. Panic spreading visibly throughout her entire body. Freezing her in place, but also preparing her for fight. For flight.

"Tess…" he called again. "You're safe. You're home. You're alive. Both of you."

It was a familiar mantra by now. Reminding her of Melissa seemed to help more in these moments than focusing on herself. As if some primal part of her was still in protector's mode: willing to take what shouldn't be taken, and do what shouldn't have been needed.

But resetting those thoughts was a job for Tessa and the therapist, for daytime sessions. Far from the terrors of the night and the thoughts you could never truly escape, only accept and adapt.

"Tess…" Softer now, like addressing a wary animal in the beginning of calming down.

As the focus returned to Tessa's eyes and both cognition and recognition flashed in them, Steve ventured a touch. His palm gently brushed over her hand.

It wasn't thrown off. Instead, it lay in place as the rush of emotions made Tessa roll flat on her back, the other hand covering her tears.

Slowly, step by step and only when she initiated it, he pulled her into his arms. Then, later, he let her pull him down on top of the bed and lay there as she snuggled close, nose over heart, and eventually drifted off to sleep again. Still awake, he stared at her now peaceful slumber; thinking, hoping, and aching.

 _Body and soul,_ he'd told himself. But she had his heart too, if she wanted it.

He wondered if she knew that.

* * *

**Sydney**

_Day 103_

"Does it ever stop?" Melissa's voice was soft. Not weak. Just…resigned. Uncertain. Hopeful. "The nightmares. The…memories."

"I don't know." Tessa clutched the mug of tea in her hand, trying to siphon its warmth into her body. A familiar disconnect had been returned to her, even if Melissa's presence did its best to tear it down. She gave the younger woman a smile. "But I think so. Eventually."

It had to. He couldn't win. Not anymore.

_No more._

"My therapist said the same," Melissa said. She stared out through a nearby window, a sigh on her lips. "She also said they wouldn't disappear. The memories. But that I'd change how I looked at them. _And_ thought about them."

Tessa remained quiet. Her therapist had said more or less the same.

Melissa frowned. "I just want it to be gone. Over." A trailed-off sigh. "I want my life back."

A shiver ran down Tessa's spine. She wasn't sure she remembered her old life anymore. Not really. It seemed like ancient times now. Things had blurred. Replaced instead by those memories she couldn't compartmentalise and bury. Memories she couldn't push away. Memories she had to face each day, each moment, and deal with every time they appeared.

Including the new ones made each day since she'd woken up in hospital. Those who differed so greatly from the life before that she still wasn't sure whether it was all just a dream, heaven, or some version of hell that relished in eventually pulling the rug out from beneath her feet. Because if it was real… If it was the truth…

She had no idea what to do about it. No idea what she _wanted_ to do about it.

_You can ask him._

Fear flooded her at that.

"Tessa?"

Her eyes blinked. Melissa stared at her, a familiar expression on her face. As if their roles were reversed; as if Tessa wasn't supposed to be the strong one.

A rush of affection broke through the fear. Lessened it. Warmed it.

"I'm fine." She reached out to touch the younger woman's hands. Smiling. "We'll both _be_ fine too. In time."

Melissa smiled. Not just the wane curl of lips that she'd often put up as a front during their captivity. But the best hint of her old, bright smile that Tessa had seen yet.

It warranted a truer smile from herself.

And she knew then, that with just that small but not insignificant action — done little by little, day by day, and not least in combination with those other efforts they'd undertaken — they'd make it.

They'd _live._

* * *

**Sydney**

_Day 128_

"How is she?"

The question came more or less daily. Especially after it became clear that he possessed more inside information than the rest. Mostly because Tessa rarely had the energy or capacity these days to manage the social aspects of her life too. She had more than enough on her plate.

He rarely shared the details, though, and just focused on the Cliff's Notes. That Tessa had recovered physically, without any lasting physical disabilities. That she was on sick leave until further notice. And that she needed time to decide, in accordance with her physician and therapist, when was the best time to return to work.

 _If_ she'd even return.

He'd never heard her talk about it. Never had her ask about details on his current cases, either. The few times he'd asked, she'd changed topics, so he'd stopped. Instead he'd tried to let her deal with things at her own pace. To live up to his unspoken promise by simply being there in whatever capacity she needed.

_Body and soul._

But this time, the question was from Tootsie, and asked when it was just the two of them. Quietly, hushed, and inviting him to a shared sense of discreet confidence.

And he was tired of being alone in this.

"Physically, she's fine. Mentally…" Steve sighed, shoulders heavy and slumped. "Day by day. I can see therapy's helping, but…" He took a swig of his beer. Set it down. Took a moment to think. "I don't think she's gonna come back, Toots."

"Could be she just needs more time. It hasn't been that long yet." As ever, Tootsie could be a voice of reason. She could also just be trying to say what he wanted to hear. A fact she seemed to realise on her own. "But it's not uncommon if she doesn't. What she's been through…"

"Yeah…"

The handcuffs and leashes. The bruises and cuts. The footprint on her throat. The cut in her hand from using the shiv. Through his own eyes or through records, Steve had seen some of the visible injuries Tessa had sustained. Had seen the healing process too; seen it all disappear, grow, and get better.

The invisible ones, however…

He still wondered why she let him get close. Why she didn't push him away like she'd done others. Why she let him comfort when she'd have very valid reasons for seeking it elsewhere instead.

Clearly, he wasn't a threat. But why he wasn't… He didn't know.

"Steve…" Tootsie's gentle tone drew him back. Grounded him.

He met her gaze, aiming for nonchalance. Seeing in her eyes that he failed. Badly.

Tootsie smiled. "It's a new normal. For her." _For you._ "Don't give up."

Same words he'd uttered during all those weeks and months alone. Most of it to Tessa's picture, still framed and positioned in a central spot in his house. Some of it had been to himself. Lately, though, he'd forgotten them.

 _Body and soul,_ he reminded himself. _Body and soul._

* * *

**Sydney**

_Day 134_

Tessa paced. Back and forth. Back and forth. Like a caged animal. Round and round in circles. Except she wasn't trying to break free of it. However minuscule in impact, it soothed her.

And she needed soothing. Particularly _now._ After today. After therapy. After realising—

_No._

_Yes._

Tessa rubbed her face, cursing that calm voice within that'd begun lately to counteract the other panicked one. It sounded too much like her therapist. Occasionally also like Tootsie. Like an overlap of memories past and present.

_You can say it. The truth won't hurt you._

Except it _was_. It rocked the boat. Threatened to turn her world upside down. To exchange the new normal for another. And she'd only just begun to get used to the former.

_You're allowed to feel it. You're not broken. You're moving on. You're—_

Tessa squeezed her eyes shut. Breath ragged, close to hyperventilation. Body wound up like a coiled spring. Ready to spring into action. If she'd let it.

She didn't.

But she was forced to.

With a click, her front door unlocked. Opened. Let in a waft of takeout dinner.

And Steve. Who backed inside with his hands and mouth full. Who dropped the keys near the door and turned around. Whose eyes brightened when he saw her. Whose brows furrowed just a second later. Whose hand picked the plastic bag held by his teeth, and then opened his mouth to ask—

But not getting a chance because she'd crossed the space between them near instantaneously. Because she'd grasped his head and pulled him down for a quick and tense peck on the lips…

And then run away before she could see his immediate reaction. Pacing again. Looking everywhere except at him. Arms hugging herself. Mind blank and panicked all at once. Warning bells screaming at her. Yelling that she'd just f—

"Tess?"

The confusion was clear. A quick glance told her he'd remained frozen in place, takeout bags still in hand, brows furrowed, lips parted. If she met his gaze, though…

"I'm sorry," she said at once, avoiding his gaze. Returning to her pacing. Biting her fingernail. The other hand clenched tightly around the opposite upper arm.

_Calm down._

_Can't._

_You're safe._

_I'm not._

_You_ _**are** _ _. It's Steve. You know Steve. You lo—_

Tears burst into her eyes. She struggled to keep them at bay. Just the opposite of what she'd been taught in therapy.

 _"I want my life back,"_ Melissa had said once. So did Tessa. More so now. This was too much. She didn't deserve—

"Um." Steve cleared his throat, breaking her out of the chaos. Apparently, he'd regained his motor skills. The takeaway was on the coffee table now. He'd also moved closer, but holding in place just out of her pacing circle. Either keeping his distance or respecting hers. "Can we talk?"

Tessa still didn't look at him. Kept walking. Back and forth. Back and forth. Eyes burning. Breath struggling. Head growing faint, dizzy.

"Tess…" That gentle tone again. The understanding. Or the wish to understand. To be there for her. To help her. To hold her. To lov—

With a sob, she collapsed onto her knees. Tears spilling everywhere. Lungs gasping for air. Muscles screaming for release.

She hadn't had a cry like that in weeks. Uncontrolled. Panicked. Unhinged. As if all the bottled-up emotion exploded from her body. As if the tsunami had caught hold of her and flushed her away. Unaware of her surroundings. At the mercy of powers she couldn't control.

In the midst of it, nothing scared her more than never getting to the end.

At the end, she slumped over. Drained. Spent. Wrung-out. But euphoric with release. Latching onto her anchor. Soaking up his warmth. His comfort.

His love.

"I'm sorry," she said again, head burrowed in his chest, her arms slung around him. She tipped her head back and met his gaze. "I shouldn't have jumped you like that. We should've talked first."

The confusion disappeared and was replaced by a smile: a wide, dimpled one. "Meaning you _wanted_ to kiss me?"

A blush bloomed on her cheeks. His arms tightened his hug.

_Don't look away. You deserve this._

"Yes," Tessa said, heart racing, blood pounding, but for entirely different reasons than fear.

Steve's smile became a full grown grin. "Good."

Then he leaned down and kissed her. A proper one. No tension. Only gentle heat. Comfort. Connection. Release.

And nearly over before it'd begun. But, for now, it was enough. The rest could come later.

She was, after all, a survivor. And she wanted to truly _live._

* * *

_**FIN** _


End file.
